You Stupid, Stupid Cat
by MutedInk
Summary: Well, Team Rocket's blasted off again. Nothing out of the usual. But yet, something's amiss. Jessie is crumbling. Meowth is crying. And what is James doing about all this? Thinking about dustpans and calling Meowth a "stupid, stupid cat." How did such events come to be? Read and you shall see! Rocketshippy.


Various bumps and bruises, their discoloring shades extraordinaire, painted palely the thin caps of his knobby knees, and all that was below them. His white pants, his lovely, malodorous, unwashed white pants, were, for a lack of finer participles, _lacerated_. The remains were shriveled and fraying madly at the edges; it was a miracle they still covered (the majority) of his (Growlithe-printed) underwear…quite the miracle, in fact. Jessie, her _click-clacking _strut a vociferous, purposeful one, joined him, hips cocked, fists balled, and sapphire studded eyes _blazing_ in the sinking sun's last glare. To the passerby, PMS would be a fair guess; but James knew better, _way _better.

"I hate them, James. I hate them all—the _Three Twerpateers _and their stupid, little, pathetic excuse of a Pikachu, too. Hate them. Hate them. Hate them. _Hate _them." He had been sitting on it for close to an hour now, quiet and at peace, weight evenly displaced on the old, dying dock, the wooden wonder of the world; it visibly and noticeably shuddered, but (much to his relief) stayed in one piece, as James' partner-in-crime plopped down in the spot informally, but residentially, hers. By _him_. Various grass greens and earth browns sprawled the front of her uniform, her _stain-resistant_, form conducive uniform of which she too, had that whole red-'n-white, Voltorb/Electrode color scheme going on; well, at least, their uniforms, they _used_ to be red-'n-white. "It's not fair. We deserve to win once. Just once. Why can't they let us? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why is it us that goes blasting off every time? Why can't it be them once? Just once! Know what they've gotten, James? They've gotten cocky; they think they're Arceus. Ha, take that overpowered electric rodent away and…"

This wasn't Jessie. As she continued to talk, ramble even, he, James, could see it in her every physical tic, from the faint, almost imperceptible trembling of her faded red lips, last week's lipstick not able to hide the chapping that peeled them, to the way her words seemed to trip over one another, the sudden verbosity she was mustering, forcefulness, too, unusual to the slick grace that oiled every dagger her fastball-lashing tongue was used to throwing. This wasn't Jessie. Jessie, the real Jessie, was crumbling and crumbling quick; it was a good thing Meowth bought that dustpan.

"Jessica." The way he murmured her name? _Elegantly_. Assertive, but soft. Open, yet final. She stopped mid-rant, mouth poised in the perfect position. _Closed. _"You can stop pretending now." As the stars, like little lanterns, small pinpricks of light, whispered themselves into the boundless night canvas, and the Kricketot, bodies unseen, but distinctive voices heard, stirred the kings and queens, the monarchs of the evening-hour, with their soft, palliative hums, Jessie did just that; she broke, weeping torso falling hard into James' own. Her gloved fingers trembled as they latched on to the fine, ruffled cavity of his shirt, the slightly bulging fabric that divided the bare of his chest from the gentle, lulling gale. They stayed there, too. She refused to let go. James himself was trembling, trembling as he realized where his right hand was, where his right hand had gone without so much as his brain's, and even less, his heart's permission—to Jessie's hair, to the long, magenta down of her voluminous, gravity defying hair. They chose to stay there, too. He couldn't let go.

Only a few meters away from the undisturbed duo (and about twenty minutes progressed from events before), a wide-eyed, bowlegged scratch cat crouched, his small body as a whole cloaked by the velvet-thick night; a large, hollowed bush didn't hurt matters, either. Long, manicured (yes, manicured) claws pushed themselves over the wiry alcove the juniper leaves formed. His friends sat on the other side, two lengthening silhouettes intertwined. Meowth could hardly stomach the scene. He couldn't, in fact; Round Four floored him.

The first three were easy: James' schoolboy laugh, Jessie's twinkling eyes, _stargazing_. Admittedly, the Pokemon almost gave up at that point. The duo linked hands, bundled up Disney close, and started naming sundry constellations; on Meowth's part, it was quite taxing to restrain hundreds upon hundreds of furballs.

"Ooh, look, Jessie! I can see the Hunters of Arceus!"

"Ooh, look, James! You've impressed the blind people! Hmph. More _amazingly_ so, if I do say so myself, I spy Ursaring Major."

"She reminds me of you, Jess, m'dear."

"Oh? How so?"

"She can't fit in a size two, either."

"You take that back."

"Make me."

And then there was Round Four. Her lips pressed against his (a romantic interlude, too).

_I can see what's happening._

_And they don't have a clue._

What would become of Meowth if Jessie and James got together?

Would he still be an equal part of Team Rocket?

Not likely.

"Will I be's a third wheel?"

The Pokemon didn't want to answer that.

_They'll fall in love and here's the bottom line._

_Our trio's down to two._

"Dey'd kick me out!"

He was sure of it.

Giovanni did.

Meowzie and her lousy Persian, too.

Neither parties had any regrets about doing so, either.

_Ze sweet caress of twilight._

_There's magic everywhere._

He could see it now.

Jimmy would pull on his man pants (for once) and 'fess up to her.

"I love you, Jessie."

Jessie would be reluctant, but only for a moment.

She'd reply,

"Ditto."

Or something along those lines.

_And with all this romantic atmosphere,_

_Disaster's in the air._

Meowth would be tossed to the side.

Andy's found his Buzz Lightyear.

"What's about Woody though?"

_Can you feel the love tonight?_

_The peace the evening brings._

They'd get married.

Have babies.

Get fat

Grow old.

"Where will I be's though?"

That was the question.

His future was in their hands.

_The world, for once, in perfect harmony,_

_With all its living things._

But didn't he want James to be happy?

_Can you feel the love tonight?_

_You needn't look too far._

Jessie, too?

_Stealing through the night's uncertainties,_

_Love is where they are._

But what about him?

Meowth?

"What's about my happiness?"

_And if they fall in love tonight,_

_It can be assumed,_

He guessed no one cared.

_Their carefree days with me are history._

_In short, my pals are..._

"No, it's me." The words rose and fell in the air. No one caught them. "I'm doomed."

Only a few inches away from the babbling cat, two teenagers stood. Both looked positively haughty (if Jessie did say so herself). James had his arms crossed, and his nose was upturned, laughing lips, too. He couldn't resist a smile, even if it was a little one at that. Jessie was similarly placed. She couldn't resist a smile, either...and this was coming from the same seventeen-year old whose most beloved pastime included making young children and/or (preferably "and") small Pokemon cry.

"Prepare for trouble, your spying, little brat." Jessie.

Meowth froze.

Huh?

That couldn't have been right.

Had Jessie just...?

"And make it double; stop crying, you stupid, stupid cat." James.

James?!

"To stop your worrying out of Team Rocket obligation."

"We aren't doing this in what the twerps would call _consideration_."

"To denounce your claims. We won't leave you behind."

"We love you, Meowth. You're one of a kind."

"Jessie!"

"James!"

"Team Rocket will always stick together, through thin and thick!"

"For you guys, I'd take hundreds of Hitmonlee's kicks!"

"Like James said, we love you, Meowth, with all our might!"

"Now, come on, old friend, say your line!"

"..."

Wait a minute.

Stop the press.

What?!

Did Jessie and James, did they really just do that? Twist their beloved motto, their baby, for him? Meowth?

Meowth?!

It was too unreal of a possibility.

They'd never do that.

Not in a million years.

Jessie would marry _Clutch _(or was it "Hutch?") before she considered that one.

"..."

This was real after all, wasn't it?

Stressed branches flexed wildly as the scratch cat tore through them. _Snap. Crackle. Pop. _Oh, wait. That was cereal. He couldn't get to them fast enough. The thorns didn't matter, the cream colored fur said thorns were intent on keeping, either. Jessie and James were all that he cared about. They mattered a lot. Meowth should have never doubted them.

Not in a million years...or until Jessie marries _Snutch,_ at any rate_._

Round One: James' schoolboy laugh.

Or was it _Cutch_?

Round Two: Jessie's twinkling eyes.

_Mitch_?

Round Three: Stargazing.

_Snitch_?

Round Four: Kissing.

"It's Butch, you idiot!"

Round Five: The Pokemon leapt into their arms, leaves exploding as he went. They shot into the night sky with a fierce kind of defiance; no one (important to the main events of this fanfiction) really cared. The Kakuna could fit into that category.

"You stupid, stupid cat!"

And the Kakuna, the Kakuna were evolving, incensed, furious that someone, "some cat" had disturbed their bush.

"Meowth, dat's right!"

* * *

A/N: Woo, this small piece has taken me forever. I know it's rather rough and choppy in some places, but I hope y'all enjoy. I'll try to smooth it out soon. c: Thank you for reading! Also, there are some places where I break the fourth wall and mention something about this being a fanfiction and whatnot; it's one of my favorite Team Rocket gags from the TV show. I really wanted to incorporate it here. ^^ Pokémon and its characters are trademarks of the companies which possess them (Game Freak, Nintendo, etc.). I do not own them.


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